Monseignour
by Sachiie
Summary: A Georgette Heyer influenced PotC fanfiction, where Jack gets more than he bargained for when buying a new cabinboy.


_Disclaimer:  Unfortunatly, I only own the characters I made up.  The rest of the characters, including the wonderful Captain Jack Sparrow, belong to Disney, Johnny Depp and all the other wonderful people who made Pirates of the Caribbean such a great film._

A/N:  Bonjour, trollies.  This is my first PotC fanfiction, and I'm not entirely sure whether I'm going to continue writing it or not.  I've based the storyline on These Old Shades by Georgette Heyer - my all time favourite author - and have done my best to try and recreate the sort of clothes and the attitudes people held in the time the film was set.  This is quite some time after PotC and Sparrow is around 40/45 - I'm not sure how old he was in the film, but I'm willing to say he was in his late twenties.  Oh, and feel free to read and review if you like, hehe.

- Sachiie.__

The crisp clicking of boots on the rickety cobblestone path announced the pirates' presence before anything visual was to be seen.  If one were to squint, they would probably catch sight of an elegant wooden cane capped with gold being swung around by the said being, right before it zoned in on the intruders head and knocked them out.  However, tonight the usual skulking occupants of this anonymous Italian street were nowhere to be seen, much to the cane bearers disappointment.  Clearly they had all heard the rumours of the fiercesome being who paraded around the streets in the dead of night raiding, pillaging and plundering anything and everything it could get its weasley mitts on. 

"'tis only a little true," the pirate informed a rat who had had the misfortune of scurrying over his boot.  A moment later found the vermin skewered on the end of the sharp bit of his cane.  "The plunderin' bit, that is, although the occasional wreckin' of ships and things is a nice change."  He chuckled whilst he pulled the squirming rodent off his stick and kissed its bloodied nose before throwing it over his shoulder.  His snickers soon turned into loud guffaws of amusement, although that quickly ended when he accidentally drove the point of his cane into his booted foot. 

"Bloody stick!" he screeched, yanking it out of the cowhide his boots were made out of.  He glared at it, nostrils flaring out with anger and was just about to hurl it off into the distance when some _thing_ bumped into him.  The fearsome swashbuckler raised one hairy eyebrow in mild surprise.  He quickly determined that the _thing_ was, in fact, a human dressed in the filthiest set of rags he'd ever seen.  With his caterpillar of an eyebrow still arched upwards, the pirate grabbed the sorry excuse for a creature by the scruff of its neck and lifted it up to eyelevel, peering at the small human with curiosity.

"What do you think yer doing at this hour, lad?" he asked, staring into a pair of terrified brown eyes.  Even through all the various rags the pirate could feel the young whelp shaking, which only boosted his already too big ego.  "'Tis dangerous to be runnin' around these streets.  You never know what you might," he paused dramatically; grinning so his many golden teeth glinted in the dim moonlight, "_bump_ into." 

 "P-please sir," stuttered the squirming boy in an unnaturally high pitched voice, "I didn't mean to-"

He was cut short by a bellowing coming from the right, and both pirate and boy glanced over to see what all the commotion was.  

 "Yoush there!" came a drunken slur from an exceedingly dirty and smelly man with a bottle of whiskey in one hand.  "Yoush shouldn't besh takin' my servant likesh that!  It'sh MY bloody boy and Ish can do with him what I pleashe!" 

At this last sentence, the young boy whimpered and did his best to bury his head in the Captain's chest, trying to escape the intoxicated man shouting at them.  The pirate merely raised his eyebrows, first looking at the small child then glancing over to the drunken oaf who was addressing him in such a manner. 

"Child, let go.  I will sort this mess out," he commanded, wrenching the small, delicate hands away from his person.  The boy shrieked in terror and darted behind him, not daring to peep out and see what would become of his tormentor and saviour. 

"You."  The calm authority in the Captain's voice was enough to make the owner of the boy pause and wonder whether he should have yelled at the pair.  This thought was crystallised when the magnificent pirate was suddenly looming over him, grinning in a way which suggested that he had killed a great deal of annoying foxed person.  

"I-I-" he started, but didn't get far as the sound of a blade being unsheated whistled along the air.  As he backed away, so the Captain advanced until the burly man was backed up against the wall.  "Now," continued the pirate in a pleasant voice, "where were we?  Ah, yes!  You were about to threaten me for, ah, 'stealing' your manservant.  Well."  And here he paused, broadening his grin and waving his long rapier around beneath the man's nose.  "I don't doubt that you've heard of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow."  A gasp of horror came from the man.  Yes, he had quite obviously heard rumours of the cold-blooded pirate.  The reaction of the man only caused Jack to chuckle before he continued in that cool, calm manner he had been sporting all evening.  "In that case, I'm sure you wouldn't mind exchangin' yer little slave here for your life, aye?" 

"N-no, sir!" squawked the quaking man, clutching onto the bottle of perry in his hand as if it would, somehow, leap out and save him from the fearsome swashbuckler in front of him. 

"And," added the Captain, smiling cheerily, "Have this for your pains -- and to keep yer mouth shut."  A sparkling diamond broach had been pressed into the terrified man's unoccupied hand.  "I now owe your servant in body and soul." 


End file.
